The Queen's Favourite
by Reese S. Quill
Summary: The year is 1562. Queen Elizabeth is suffering from smallpox, and her Privy Council is desperately trying to keep the kingdom under control. What would have happened if she named Robert Dudley the Lord Protector before succumbing to her illness? AU.
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Queen's Favorite

**Rating: **PG13/ T

**Summery: **Robert Dudley was the most hated man in England. What would have happened if Queen Elizabeth had named him Lord Protector before slipping into a coma? AU.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to "The Tudors."

* * *

**Prologue**

_**9th October 1562**_

The day had a promise of something in the air.

William Cecil, the Queen's secretary, couldn't say why it was so. The court had been in gloom ever since that morning, with Queen Elizabeth being deemed too ill to get out of bed. He noted how people seemed to drift about the hallways, utterly clueless on what to do when their monarch, the center of the universe to some of them, was not present. He could not truly blame them. Without her, just about nothing could be decided in the Privy Council. They couldn't even _predict _what she wanted to be done, what with her always having an ulterior motive that even they couldn't usually begin to guess.

He admired her for that.

He had survived the reigns of three monarchs before her, starting early on from her half-brother Edward's service, gaining some favor in the Lady Jane Grey's time (as brief as it was), and barely surviving Queen Mary's ascent to the throne by living cautiously. But the first time he saw the Queen – then, simply the nineteen-year-old Lady Elizabeth – he simply knew, instinctively, that she would be the best of them all. She was clever, courageous, and secretive—the perfect ingredients to make a good monarch. Only one thing had darkened his opinion of her once, but that had been quite a while ago and had been successfully remedied.

He hurried through the corridor. She had summoned him to her bedchamber a few minutes ago, which surprised him; as dedicated as the Queen was to the matters of state, she didn't usually press on in spite of disease, knowing all to well the importance of health. If she wanted him so much that she had called him to her bedchamber, it must be urgent. He hoped it would have something to do with the marriage negotiations; a number of suitors were currently asking for her hand, but ever since she had rejected the Archduke Charles, she had not singled one out she wanted to address in particular.

He knocked on the door; instantly, the face of one of her ladies, Mary Sidney, popped out. He sighed inwardly, wishing it had not been this certain lady to be the one to greet him. She did not do anything inappropriate personally; but an incorrigible relative of hers had irritated him to no end when he was still at court. He was almost certain that she had no reason to like him very much, either. Sure enough, her voice was cold when she asked, "Is there anything I can do for you, Master Cecil?"

"The Queen summoned me," he responded.

Her eyebrows flew up. "Did you not hear…?" She trailed off as she saw his confused expression. Of course he didn't. Dr. Cavendish had been ordered not to tell anyone anything, but Mary was surprised that Master Cecil, Elizabeth's most trusted advisor, had not been informed yet.

"It's all right, Mary," called a voice. "He need not stand so close—the disease had not progressed that far, at least not yet." Mary bit her lip, as if she wanted to protest, but nodded and curtsied. She took a few steps backward and gestured for Master Cecil to follow her. For a moment, he hesitated. There had to be a reason that the girl did not want him to see the Queen, and Elizabeth had mentioned a sickness…surely it could not be so severe. The Queen had always the most robust health, the best by far than any of her half-siblings. Surely she would get through this. Telling himself to not be such a coward, Cecil stepped into the room.

He gasped. There was nothing in the chamber that should have normally bothered him. Fine carpets and tapestries gave the place a cozy, elegant quality. A fire was blazing smartly at the hearth, with the Queen's governess, Mistress Ashley, was tending to. A large bookcase was there, filled with tomes both in the languages of the English, Romans, and Greeks – the Queen did so love her Latin – and a desk with stationary ready for her use. It was the Queen herself that had shocked Cecil so much.

She was dying.

That had become clear to Cecil the moment he saw her. Her face was drawn, pale, and beads of sweat trickled down her forehead; she was only lucky she did not suffer many pockmarks. Her velvet-blue eyes squinted wretchedly, as if she could barely see him. The bedclothes hung limply about her. Yet, despite all that, she still had a regal quality about her, something that had always set her apart from any crowd, as well as the monarchs he had served before her—and no matter what, she had always held her head up high.

It took him quite a while to get over his astonishment. Hastily, he bowed low. "Your Majesty," he said, paying his respects as always. She deserved nothing less. He began to walk over to her—but she held up her hand.

"Not so close, Master Cecil," Elizabeth said wearily. "I don't want you to get an infection." She didn't want anyone to be sick because of her. Never before had she been this ill; it was disorienting, to say the least. Time held almost no meaning for her, and a constant, raging headache blocked her from thinking properly. Was this what Mary and Edward felt like when they caught one of their frequent diseases? She did not wish this fate on her worst enemy, let alone her closest advisor. Especially not when she had something she wanted him to do. "Dr. Cavendish has diagnosed me with smallpox."

Cecil nodded, blanching. This did not bode well for England. The Queen had reigned successfully for three years, establishing the kingdom as a Protestant country, banishing Catholicism in to almost nothing but a furtive activity, and driving the whole world mad guessing who and if she was going to marry, or if she'd choose to keep her resolve and remain a virgin until the day she died. She was intelligent, secretive, and charismatic—a perfect combination for a monarch, he thought, knowing that she used her talents for all they were worth. Given time, perhaps she would even be more popular than even her father, despite her sex.

But the Queen was dying.

They did not have time.

Her eminent death would leave the land in turmoil; that was for certain. Possibly, there would be civil war. The Catholic and Protestant sides of the court would all make bids for power, and Cecil didn't want to imagine what would happen if Mary, Queen of Scots, and Elizabeth's cousin, dared to get involved. Within months, all his and Elizabeth's work would be brushed aside as if they had never happened. The Queen's death would probably spell disaster. Unless…

"I want to prepare for every contingency, Master Cecil, in case the worst happens," Elizabeth continued. She couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt. Perhaps this was her fault. She had always procrastinated naming on who would be in charge if she wasn't around—and because of that, maybe fate had deigned to punish her for tempting it. Now, the threat of her demise was looming large. Whether she was going to Heaven or Hell, she wanted to leave knowing that her kingdom was left in good hands.

"Are you saying, Your Majesty," he said slowly, "You want to name an heir?" It was better than nothing, he supposed, but he would rather have the Queen get better. Whoever she chose to succeed her after her death was not guaranteed to take the throne—Lady Jane Grey had proved that when Edward's act of succession was overruled by the people; she had been Queen for just nine days before they rebelled against her and placed Queen Mary on the throne. Besides that, if she did not name Mary, Queen of Scots, as her heir, there was a chance that the lady would gather forces and attack England anyways, claiming to be the rightful successor.

Then he noticed the Queen was glaring at him. Her lips were pursed, as if she was trying not to lash out. "I do not wish to be buried alive," she said severely. "I am not dead yet, it so happens. There is still a chance, no matter how slim it may be, that I may recover. No, Master Cecil. I want to name a Lord Protector."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The dismay in Cecil's voice was plain, but at the moment he didn't care. Lord Protectors had a smaller chance of securing the kingdoms than monarchs did, and they would only rule until the Privy Council decided on the heir. It seemed that Elizabeth would never name who she wanted to succeed her; she would had over the unpleasant task completely to them. "Who do you have in mind?"

Her eyes were fixed upon him, capturing his own. He couldn't help but squirm. People said that she inherited Anne Boleyn's eyes; eyes that were like hooks for the soul, eyes that drove King Henry mad enough to turn the kingdom upside-down for her sake, eyes that would hypnotize any person to do her bidding. "Do you promise to abide by my decision, whoever it may be?" she asked.

"Your Majesty," he protested lightly. "I will always be completely loyal. You don't have to-"

"Unfortunately, Master Cecil, in this case I do feel that I must. You will understand soon enough." Elizabeth took a deep breath. He was not going to like this. "But you must swear on your life, and mine, that you will do as I say. You will assist whomever I appoint to the fullest of your abilities, and serve him as if you would to me. No matter what happens. Do you promise?"

"I-" He hesitated. If she wanted him to make a formal oath, she would have made him sign it on paper and give it to the Parliament to ensure it was upheld. This was nothing like that. If he so wished, he could deny anything and ignore the successor as much as he wanted, if he did not want to assist whoever it was. But the Queen trusted him enough that he would do it, even if she did not list down the consequences. For her sake, he would. "Yes, Your Majesty. I swear it."

She spoke the name.

At first, she thought he might not have heard her. He stared, his face slowly registering shock and disbelief. If the matter was not so serious, Elizabeth would have laughed—rarely had she ever caught her secretary off-guard. When it finally sunk in, William Cecil launched on a furious argument. "But Your Majesty, you cannot possibly be serious! There must surely be other, better candidates. Think of the rumors that surround his reputation. Think of what the courtiers would say. The people of England would never trust him. His authority would never be respected." His flippant and overbearing personality would not help either, Cecil thought darkly, but he knew better than to say that out loud. "Would you really entrust your kingdom, your realm, to someone like him?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said with utmost certainty, and Master Cecil knew that was her last word on the matter. He gave a broken sigh, defeated. "Of course, this only ensues if the worst happens," she reminded him. "I'm not intending to die for many years. I just want to be sure that I left England in good hands…just in case."

* * *

_**10th October, 1562**_

Thirteen-year-old Kathy smiled charmingly at her brother.

It was the smile she used to delight her servants and care-takers – and therefore, utterly enslave them – and she had used it often enough to get a knack for how to curve her lips in just the right way, and how to make her dimples look especially sweet. She knew that this childish look would not last forever (and indeed, she hoped not; she was tired being treated as the baby of the family) but sometimes it could be dead useful. Like convincing a sibling of hers to stay outside just a little longer.

But if that was her goal, Katherine was doomed to be disappointed.

Her sunshiny grin had absolutely no effect on Robert Dudley.

"Mary said sunset, sister. And before you can protest I shouldn't care what she thinks," he added before she could say just that, "Let me tell you I want her to see how responsible I can be." He said that in a pompous, mocking voice, the kind he would use when he imitated the irritating visitors that sometimes stopped by for her entertainment, but there was a grain of truth in what he said—not that he'd ever admit it. He was hoping that being responsible with Kathy at least sometimes would convince his older sister to try again with asking for him to be returned to court. As much as he loved his little sister, he had no desire to play babysitter forever.

"You mean not at all?" Kathy scowled, knowing where his trail of thought was going, but quickly transformed her face back into a bright smile. Thankfully, he did not notice, still staring at a distance. Seeing that he remained unconvinced, she continued in a persuasive tone, "The day is so beautiful right now, Robby. I don't want to go back inside just yet. You know that Mistress Sarah will have me start sewing again." She gave an exaggerated shudder.

Robert smirked. He could sympathize with his sister on her governess – the lady would have scared him as a child, and every time he saw her he thanked his lucky stars that he was much too old to be put in a corner – and understand even more why she wanted to stay outside and ride, but it was getting late. As if reading her mind, Kathy said quickly, "Ambrose and Mary don't have to know."

He burst out laughing. "I would know, Kathy—and aren't I your older sibling as well?"

"Yes, but you don't count," she insisted. She was grateful for that; he was the fun brother, the one she could tell anything. Although Ambrose was kind and gave her lots of treats, and Mary tried to act the part of a strict mother and a sister confidante at once, it was Robert she trusted infinitely.

He grinned at her indulgently. "I should count, then. I can be a very stern brother when I want to."

"You?" Kathy said with disbelief. "You can't be strict with a lazy horse that wants to eat hay!" In reply, he stuck his tongue out at her. Her smile turned even wider. She was winning him over, she knew it. "Just a few more minutes," she coaxed. "It's not technically sunset yet. The sky hasn't even begun to darken!"

Robert Dudley gave a defeated sigh. Sometimes, his sister could be the most stubborn girl in the world. Second most stubborn, a voice in his head said, but he quickly pushed that thought away. "All right, Kathy. You may stay out for five more minutes. I mean it," he added sternly when she batted her eyelashes at him. "No more than-" He broke off, and his expression changed. His eyes were at the gate. "Get in the house, Katherine."

"What?" she shrieked in outrage. "But you just said-"

"Katherine," he hissed in an even firmer tone of voice. She turned around to look what he was gazing at—to see a messenger waiting behind them, a grim stare on his face. For a moment, she saw nothing wrong with this; both Mary and Ambrose had sent many messages through messengers, and she was about to tell Robert so when she realized. His clothes were much to fine to be a mere courtier's messenger; even the Queen's lady-in-waiting's couldn't afford that much extravagance….he was clutching a sealed letter in his hand…

Katherine swallowed a lump in her throat. Robert said nothing this time; but his eyes darted back to the house. Kathy didn't know what was this all about, not completely, but she could guess. She heard enough accounts from her siblings on her parents and (even older!) siblings were arrested and sent to the Tower when she was just a baby; and she knew enough that it all started with a royal messenger passing through the gates, carrying an arrest warrant.

Perhaps she was overreacting.

Maybe it was a message from the Queen, as her brother had so hoped these past few years, telling him to return to court. Either way, she knew that Robert was going to leave her.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Robert Dudley was once a famous – or rather, infamous – name in court.

As the Queen's favorite, he knew that he would attract some jealousy with the other courtiers. What he didn't expect was that England would flat-out universally hate him. A few months after Elizabeth's coronation, he could barely walk out in the streets without being glared at, although few ever dared make their loathing as clear whenever Elizabeth herself was around. To be honest, he didn't care that much. He was already unpopular, due to his father being the manipulating bastard that he was, and he never asked whether people hated him because of the Queen's affection or who his family was.

He had no idea how important public opinion was.

Although Elizabeth never showed signs of anxiousness when he was with her, he could see now how much of a burden he was then. Many times he thought that it must have been a relief for her in some ways to banish him from the palace, to give her life entirely to England without any qualms. He couldn't blame her. Once the rumors of Amy's death seeped into her reputation, she simply had no choice but to send him away. Yet it almost killed him to think that he might not be the person who knew her best anymore.

Nowadays, he supposed his name was only mentioned in passing. The young man before him lacked the look of scorn his predecessors had given especially to him, he noticed. He twitched nervously in his seat, anxious about the news he was supposed to give. "I hope you're comfortable," Robert said, trying to break the ice. The man nodded timidly. "Of course, you are welcome to stay the night."

"Thank you, my lord," he said, lowering his gaze. "I have news from the palace."

_Of course you do_, Robert thought impatiently_. I wouldn't let you in if you didn't._ But he managed not to say that out loud. "What is it?"

"Master Dudley, do you know there has been an outbreak of smallpox in London?"

Robert frowned. "Of course. But what has this to do with...?" A look of horror spread across his face. "Is Mary and Ambrose all right? My brother and sister," he added when he saw the man's confused expression, calmed when he saw he didn't know who they were. The news couldn't be about them, then. He had few family members at court, but he didn't mind unduly if they died. "Has one of my relatives been diagnosed?" Slowly, the messenger shook his head. "Spit it out!" Robert snapped, his patience finally breaking.

"My lord, it's the Queen," the messenger mumbled. His eyes widened when he saw the effect his words had on Lord Robert. If he had reacted badly that his siblings were in danger, it was much worse with the Queen. He turned even paler, his hand almost clutching the armrests of his seat.

Time seemed to slow down for Robert. No…not Bess. Never Bess. She was always healthy—she drank those stupid tonics every single day, for God's sake! Surely she was safe. Perhaps this was a cruel trick—a scam of that snake Cecil to distress him. But no, even he would not be so petty to send a messenger to give him a false message. In any case, Bess would have been furious if she found out. But the only alternative to believe that it was true, that Elizabeth was….

"She's not dead," the messenger said hastily. He sighed with relief when Lord Robert finally recovered himself and look at him questioningly. "She's—she's in a coma," he elaborated. "Nobody can wake her up."

"I see," Robert said. "And the Queen sent for me before she reached that stage?" It was the only possible explanation he could come up with. Surely Cecil didn't order him to be informed; on the contrary, he would have probably done his best to keep him in the dark for as long as possible.

The messenger hesitated. "Lord Robert…before the Queen fell asleep, she…she devised a plan on what she wanted to happen if she were to…to become seriously ill." He swallowed nervously.

"So she named an heir," Robert said more to himself than to the messenger. He dearly hoped it wasn't Mary, Queen of Scots. She was a Catholic, and he – and perhaps most of the kingdom – had no wish to see another Catholic Queen Mary sitting on the throne. More than that, he had been indignant on Elizabeth's behalf when the King of France had proclaimed that she was a bastard and that it was Mary that was the rightful ruler of England. He couldn't imagine Bess giving in like that, even when she was ill. "But Elizabeth is not dead yet."

"No, sir," the man answered haltingly. "She did not name an heir. She named a Lord Protector."

"Cecil," Robert said with utter conviction. He was disgusted—William Cecil had sent a messenger to him to gloat.

"No," the messenger said again. "You."

* * *

In the other side of the wall, Kathy gasped.

Throughout the years she spent in her home, she noticed that being sneaky was a must if she wanted to learn any _really_ important information. Her need for doing that, however, greatly diminished when Robert arrived. He told her just about everything—everything, of course, except court life, which both Mary and Ambrose stressed not to question him about even though she had once heard he was friends with the Queen.

Now, however, she couldn't trust that Robert wouldn't tell her anything or give her a condensed version, and she decided to use her knowledge of the hiding places in the manor to see what she could find out. One of the most useful ones was the old servants' room in the parlor, where she had once heard Mistress Sarah confess that she had a dalliance with the stable master, and where she knew she could listen to everything the messenger would say to Robert.

She closed her eyes.

Robert was Lord Protector.

There hasn't been a Lord Protector in years; and despite the considerable power the position guaranteed, it was not a sought-after one. The last three people had been executed for treason. One of them had been Kathy's father. She bit her lip, trying to quell the fear that the same might happen to Robert. She pressed her ear against the wall to listen some more.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, all Robert could manage to choke out was the word, _"What?" _

"Her Majesty had chosen you as Lord Protector, and Master Cecil wanted to honor her wishes," the messenger said awkwardly. "He sent me to ask you to come back to court-"

"Is this some kind of joke?" Robert seethed, standing up. "From the day he laid eyes on me he loathed me with a passion, and now you're telling me that he wants to make me Lord Protector? You're mad."

"Please, my lord, if you will just listen…I have proof."

"Proof?" Robert said with disbelief. "What kind of proof do you have that would convince me…" He trailed off when he saw what messenger had taken out a velvet box. "The Great Seal of the Realm." In a flash, he recalled all the times he saw it in Elizabeth's hands; and the first time, when she heard that she was Queen, when she had kneeled under the oak tree in Hatfield and thanked the Lord. What a long time it had been since then…

The messenger coughed. "Master Cecil thought you might need some convincing." And Robert was convinced. Even Cecil wouldn't risk losing an object so important simply to torment him.

"I'll leave tomorrow," he told him. In a much louder voice, he continued, "After I finish lecturing my sister about how wrong it is to eavesdrop."

* * *

"How did you know I was there?" Kathy asked later. "I thought that place was full-proof."

"The wood next to the door creaks," Robert said without smiling. "I used it many times in my childhood as well." And that memorable day when he found his father was betrothing him to Amy, he added silently. He ran a hand through his hair. "Kathy, you shouldn't do that. Some things aren't meant for children to know."

"I'm not a child!" she said indignantly. "I'm thirteen years old."

"Yes. Almost ready to be married to Henry of Huntingdon," Robert remarked coldly. Kathy scowled. He knew how much she hated being reminded of her betrothal—a betrothal that still stood firm since her parents were alive, much to her dismay. "I was going to tell you anyway."

"All of it?" she challenged.

"Perhaps," he said, avoiding her gaze. "Either way, you should trust me. I am your older brother."

"Also Lord Protector, and currently the most powerful man in England."

He sighed. "Don't remind me. What am I going to do? What could have possessed Bess to do something like this?" He frowned, an almost anxious expression on his face. Kathy looked at him curiously. He had never spoke of the Queen of England with a nickname before. "England is the most precious thing to her. Why in God's name did she entrust it to me?"

"Perhaps she knew you'd take care of it, Robert." She said, her faith in her brother absolute.

He laughed without humor. "She once said that I was the most irresponsible person that she knew."

"She could have just been saying that," she countered.

"But it's true." He groaned, wishing she was here with him. If their roles had been switched, she would have known exactly what to do, and she'd do it in that brisk, no-nonsense manner that both infuriated as well as amused him. What she had given him was no easy task. Most of the Council members – and all of England – would be against him. Possibly there would be even more attempts on his reputation and even his life to make the commoners of England mistrust him. He wondered why Cecil would even choose to honor his word for Elizabeth, knowing that if he did he would possibly be dooming the entire kingdom to be controlled by a man he loathed.

And yet, he couldn't help feel a little glad.

Out of all the others, Elizabeth had chosen him.

After all this time, she still trusted him.

He didn't want her to put that trust to him in vain.

Kathy watched her brother's expression carefully. She had started to become quite good at that, too, and she had a feeling that Robert wouldn't want to disappoint that Queen of his. What she said earlier wasn't completely true—she knew that Robert could be quite capable when he wanted to. But she also knew that he would need help. Another pair of eyes who'd look out for him, besides Ambrose's and Mary's. "I'll come with you for assistance."

He blinked, snapping out of it. "No."

"Robert-"

"No, Katherine. Court can be a bloodthirsty, ruthless place," he told her, remembering the time when Katherine Howard was about to get executed. Everyone had been questioned, and he had been especially instructed by his father not say anything. Even then he had been close friends with Elizabeth, and had seen much more of Queen Katherine than any of his siblings did. His father didn't want to risk him saying anything that would put their family reputation in jeopardy; and for a time, he was even instructed to stay away from Elizabeth, he recalled bitterly.

He couldn't let his little sister stay there.

"Fine," Kathy huffed, turning on her heel. She'd let him feel in charge for a while; perhaps he could use a boost of confidence. But if he thought that she was going to sit by and stay behind, he had another thing coming.


	2. Chapter One: The Other Dudley Girl

**A/N: Spelling for the Latin words are almost definitely wrong. I don't know where to find what Elizabeth said. **

**Chapter One: The Other Dudley Girl**

_**12**__**th**__** October 1562**_

If Cecil had any hope that Lord Dudley would have learned _some _humility from his two-year banishment, it vanished when he saw him strutting through the hall with yet another girl on his arm.

As they walked towards him, his scowl deepened. What was the man thinking, bringing a child with him to court while there was a disease raging? And he wasn't the only one thinking this. Around Robert, courtiers whispered behind their hands when they saw him approach, but he completely ignored them; if there was any trait that Elizabeth didn't have but he did, Cecil thought grudgingly, it was that he never let the people's gossip get to him. "Cecil," Lord Dudley acknowledged, inclining his head when he saw him.

The little girl seemed quite oblivious to both him and Robert, still looking around with open awe at the place, marvelling at every tapestry and feature—she seemed to want nothing more than to go closer and examine them. Luckily, Lord Dudley held her tightly in his grip. He whispered something to her. She turned to look at him questioningly, and then glanced at Cecil. "Oh! Uh, sorry," she apologized, dipping into a curtsy. Then she looked up with a smile, completely unabashed. "You must be Master Cecil."

Cecil nodded but didn't answer, choosing instead to direct his attention to the new Lord Protector. "You brought a child to court," he stated disapprovingly. Dudley flinched. "I would have thought even you would know better than to bring a little girl to place as dangerous as this one. Although," he continued, his lip curling, "If I remember correctly, you hardly ever thought before doing."

"Nice to see you too, Cecil," Lord Dudley snapped. "If you _must_ know, I never intended to bring her here either. She stowed away in the back of the carriage; I didn't know she was there until half-way through the journey." His voice was a mixture of irritation, pride, and amusement. "She sneezed."

"Nevertheless, it was completely foolish of you-"

"Didn't you hear him?" the girl said, speaking up. "It wasn't his fault. It was mine."

He glared at her. "He could have sent you back."

She shrugged. "He could have. But then, he's the Lord Protector. As I've heard, a lot of people are now out to get him, and I wouldn't put it pass them to kidnap me on the journey and use me as leverage. Robby really wouldn't like that. So he decided-" though truthfully, she pretty much decided for him –" That I can come and stay in court until the whole mess has blown over, providing that I don't cause any trouble." She said, thinking the matter was settled. "Anyway," she added, "You can drop the 'little girl' bit. I'm close to my marrying age." Usually, she didn't want to draw attention to the fact, but she didn't want Cecil to deem her brother irresponsible for bringing her. He was only doing her bidding, after all.

"Then who are you?" Cecil questioned sceptically. "His mistress?"

"No!" they both shouted at the same time. "I'm thirteen years old," the girl said angrily. "And Robby would never take a mistress!" Cecil snorted, while Lord Dudley shifted almost guiltily. "Besides, I'm his sister. Lady Katherine."

"Ah. Yes." Cecil said, looking at her up and down. He wondered why he hadn't guessed before. Although she shared almost none of the features of Mary Sidney, who had brown hair and was of short height, or Ambrose, who was stooped and stocky, her resemblance to her other brother was unmistakeable. She was slender but tall, with long, dark hair and a splash of light freckles on her face. Most of all, she had his infamous gypsy eyes—unlike Elizabeth's, which to no end intimidated people and showed them how much power she had, Katherine's and Robert's were warm and brown, almost hypnotizing and completely enthralling. It was rumoured that many a lady at court succumbed to those eyes, and Cecil was uncomfortably aware that the Queen was one of them. "The _other _Dudley girl."

"And proud to be so," she finished.

He scrutinized her. She was still young enough to not completely be set in her ways yet. Perhaps he could give her a warning. "Listen to me, Lady Katherine. You'd do best not to emulate your brother's example. You don't know what he would or would not do to gain power."

"Enough, Cecil," Robert said in a severe tone.

"Surely you had already told her?" Cecil asked, his voice almost mocking. "The Robert Dudley I know never ceased to brag of his _reputation._"

"I might not be that man anymore," Robert said coolly. "I'm certainly more important. Lord Protector, isn't that the title Elizabeth bestowed upon me?" Cecil reluctantly nodded. "Odd that she didn't consider _you _worthy of that honour." Cecil's eyes flashed, and Robert knew instantly that he made a mistake. Although it had been two years since he set foot in court, he knew for sure that he still had many enemies. He couldn't afford Cecil, a member of the Privy Council and the person in charge of all the Queen's affairs, to be one of them. Again.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, much to the amazement of Cecil. "I give you my word that Kathy will behave…and that I'll enlighten her about my former _reputation._" Kathy frowned. "In the meantime, mayn't we _try _to co-operate until the Queen gets better? I don't know why Elizabeth chose me as Lord Protector over you, but even if she did, I'm sure she would have wanted you to help me."

Cecil winced, remembering his promise. _You will assist whomever I appoint to the fullest of your abilities, and serve him as if you would to me._ If he was planning to actually keep that promise, he wasn't off to a very good start. In a neutral tone, he asked, "Would you like to hold a meeting for the Privy Council soon?" At Lord Dudley's curt nod, he departed.

"And now, sister," he said, turning to Kathy, "You and I will have to talk."

* * *

"How dare he?" Kathy shrieked once they were out of earshot.

They were in Lady Mary Sidney's room, although their eldest sibling didn't know it yet. Robert was actually dreading when his sister would come into her chamber and discover them there. Never mind attempts on his life from the people who had their eye on the throne; Mary and Ambrose would simply _kill _him once they saw he brought their little sister along.

"He insulted you, right in front of courtiers. You're the Lord Protector. Can't you have him banished or something?"

Robert smiled, amused at her innocence. "Well, Kathy, you weren't quite on your best behaviour, either." She pouted. "Anyway, I need Cecil. _Elizabeth _needed Cecil, and she's the most capable person I know. Besides, you're going to have to get used to me being insulted. It's been some time since I've last been here, but the courtiers don't let go of grudges so easily."

Kathy frowned. "Exactly how many of them have a grudge against you?"

"All of them," he said matter-of-factly. She stared. "Well, perhaps the new ones after my time might treat me with a little bit more tolerance, but their views are usually warped by other courtiers anyway. I don't think Bess had assigned anyone new in the Privy Council, though, so I'm sure _they _all hate me."

"But that's ridiculous!" she spluttered. "You're _Robert Dudley._"

"Exactly," he replied. "Sister," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "Their hatred on me isn't completely baseless. I've been rude and arrogant and selfish. I _had _taken mistresses. I repeatedly shoved the Queen's favour in their faces. I'm not perfect."

"Even so," she said, struggling to put that image together with her loving, light-hearted brother, "If what I've heard is true, that's not very uncommon."

"I was the Queen's favourite," he told her. "That's enough for a lot of them."

"So it's _her _fault, then?" Kathy said spitefully, not seeing her brother's eyes flash at her insult to the Queen.

"It's not that simple, Katherine," he said, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Then tell me!" Kathy pleaded. Mary and Ambrose had absolutely forbidden her to ever ask Robert about court life, and she knew almost nothing about the Queen other than she was once a close friend of her brother's that banished him. Now, it seemed that things were far more complicated than she thought. She hated that the courtiers disliked her brother, but it was far more than that. She had known about Robert Dudley, her second-oldest surviving brother, since she was little. She had even been visited by him at times. But only two years ago, when he had been banished for some charge or another (she was never told), had she truly managed to get to know him.

Now she was wondering if she actually did.

The people at court seemed to be seeing an entirely different Robert Dudley, one that, as he himself put it, was "rude and arrogant and selfish." Which one was he, really? Kathy wanted desperately to find out.

"Start at the beginning."

* * *

_Father had sent them instructions to make friends with the Lady Elizabeth._

_He had said in his note, matter-of-factly, that he thought it would benefit the family if they could get more than one of the King's children on their side. Under no circumstances were they to compromise their mission in being favoured by Prince Edward – nothing was worth that – but if possible, they should try to win both their favour. They didn't have to stay with the girl too much, of course; Father didn't actually expect them to be close. It was only to find a way to introduce Mary to Elizabeth at a later date. Afterwards, they would be free to wash his hands of her._

_He didn't even bother to ask about their welfare._

_Ever since Robert, Ambrose, and John were accepted to become companions to the Prince, Father had drilled it into them that this was one of the best opportunities they would get in their lives. Study hard, he had said, but that wasn't the point of it. The most important thing was that they establish connections with the boys from prominent families, most of all the children of the royal family. If that meant that one of them had to play with a __**girl**__, so be it. After much debate, it was decreed that the task should be assigned to Robert – after all, he seemed to have the most luck on getting girls to do what he wanted – while John and Ambrose would work more Prince Edward, although it couldn't hurt that he would like all of his boys. _

_Ambrose was entirely against it. He was always their conscience, the one who would occasionally stand up to their father's constant demands, but Father had expected that. He had sent a separate letter to John and Robert warning them that if they followed Ambrose's example there would be severe consequences, and that had been enough for them to decide to do their jobs._

_But for Robert, that was easier said than done. Besides John's annoying, ribbing jokes about it was how charming he was to the females that got him into this, the Lady Elizabeth was simply nowhere to be found. They've already met Edward – a nice boy, he had to admit, but not one he would pick for a friend himself – and he would be starting classes alongside with them and the other boys next week. But his half-sister seemed to like keeping to herself. Oh, they knew she was there somewhere, he had discreetly asked one of the servants, but she was so rarely seen that it had become a running joke among the boys on who would spot the 'ghost girl' first._

_How could he make friends with this Elizabeth if he didn't even know where she was? _

_However, knowing that his father would kill him if he failed this 'little mission,' he took every chance he could to wander around the place in hopes he'd meet Lady Elizabeth. _

_On the day before classes were supposed to officially begin, Robert decided to look at the third floor. It was the only place he hadn't been in yet – not the least because Lady Bryan had taken to watching him like a hawk – and just about everyone was outside, enjoying the last of their freedom. Robert longed to be there with them, but this might be his last chance to find Lady Elizabeth before he'd become immersed in his studies. Who knows, she might already be preparing to leave._

_But he might as well have gone outside, Robert thought as he hurried through the corridor. Even up in the third floor, there had been no sign of Lady Elizabeth, and he checked most of the rooms. Finally, he gave up. The servant had probably lied to him in hopes of getting a coin or two. He raced down the corridor, thinking that if he ran he might still be able to have an hour or so outside-_

"_Dishipulus, quere est…" _

_He froze in his tracks, enthralled. Quickly, he backtracked to where he heard the voice. Never before had he heard someone recite Latin so perfectly other than his teachers; and their way of saying it didn't sound nearly as nice as the one who had been speaking. He never could remember those damned verses himself, but he always admired it when someone else could. Eagerly, he pressed his ear on the door to listen. To his surprise, a more familiar voice answered._

_The crown prince of England stumbled through the word. "Ki-mee-do…"_

"_Edward," the first person said, a combination of frustration and affection in her voice. There were sounds of someone dropping something, two pairs of feet walking, and somebody sitting down. "Now. Listen closely. When you have a tutor, you have to learn these things, Edward." No answer. "Quipus…at quay….dotcheri…." The girl prompted._

"_Qwee-pus….at way….do…." Edward trailed off._

"_You want to go and play?" the girl asked, her tone showing that she already knew the answer._

"_Yes, if you please, dear sister."_

_Robert's eyes widened, his mind reeling with shock. _This _was the Lady Elizabeth? Somehow, his mind built up a picture that she would be like the girls at home; blonde, petite, not caring a fig about her lessons if she had any, and completely swooning over him in a matter of seconds. Peeking through the doorway, Robert saw this was definitely not the case. He couldn't see Elizabeth's face yet – her back was to him – but he saw that her hair was a reddish gold, her figure slim. From the way she talked, she seemed to care __**very**__ much about her studies, a trait he always admired in other people but could never bring himself to copy, and he highly doubted that she'd be easily impressed. For a moment, he considered walking in there so that Edward could smooth things over and introduce them._

_Luckily, common sense prevailed. If Edward was there, Lady Bryan was too, and he could not afford having that lady punish him before he could actually meet Elizabeth. He decided to simply wait until she was alone._

"_One day, you will be a great king, Edward," he heard her say. For a moment, he thought he detected a bit of envy in her voice—but he was probably just imagining it. "I know you will be. And very strong. But, also fair and merciful." She stopped, collecting herself. "I want you to be a just ruler. And then indeed, you shall be a great king." She paused, and Robert could almost imagine her grinning. "Now. Go along and play."_

"_Thank you, Elizabeth!" said his much-younger classmate delightedly. "And may God bless you."_

_Too late, Robert realized that Edward coming his way. Fortunately, the young boy was much too preoccupied to notice that Robert was there, and by the time Lady Bryan and the other ladies came out he had already hidden himself under a tapestry. When he was sure they were gone, he knocked on the door lightly until a voice said, "Come in." _

_He couldn't exactly say why he thought the young girl before him was pretty, and yet he couldn't deny that she was. She wore a dress made of green and black silk, her hair only slightly restrained by a cap and flowing loose over her shoulders. On her neck were a pearl necklace and a cross. For a moment, he was distracted while he wondered whether she leaned towards Catholic or Protestant teachings more, but he quickly forgot about it when she spoke again. "May I help you?" _

"_Uh, yes. I mean, no." For the first time in his life, he felt himself grow tongue-tied. "D'you know where Edward is?" he blurted out. _

_She raised her eyebrows. "You've just missed him. He left to go downstairs to play with the other boys." He nodded dumbly, acknowledging her words, and trying to think of an excuse to stay there a bit longer, when she added, "Although I would have thought you'd manage to catch him, after all that time eavesdropping." _

_It took time for her words to finally sink in. When they did, his jaw slackened, and he stared at her for a full minute before he said anything else. "You knew I was listening?"_

"_The tapestry is louder than you think," she informed him. "Most of the ladies probably thought it was the wind, but I closed the windows earlier when I thought Edward would be too cold."_

"_That doesn't prove anything."_

"_And I suppose it's the norm for boys to hide behind the tapestry when Lady Bryan approaches?" she countered, her lips turning upwards to an almost playful smile. He couldn't answer. "I thought so." She sighed, as if she was about to rehearse a speech for the millionth time. "I know one of your relatives have probably told you to gain my and Edward's favour while you're here. Please don't lie," she added when he opened his mouth. "No one else wants to meet me besides that. Unfortunately, I have no intention to speak up for you or your relatives to my father or Edward. You can leave. I won't tell anyone that you were here." She sat down and began reading a book, obviously waiting for him to do as she said._

_Sometimes, Robert wondered what would have happened if he really had walked away. It would certainly have been easier, and now that he could say he tried and that she disliked him, his father wouldn't have pressed him that hard._

_But at that time, all he could think about was how sad it was that a girl, a King's daughter, had come to expect that anyone who approached her only wanted to use her for her father. "You don't have that many friends, do you?" he asked. Her face turned into a scowl that reminded him of Lady Bryan's, but he continued. "You know, there are other reasons why people might like you other than you're royalty." _

"_Be that as it may," she said in a clipped tone, "for the majority of the time, it's because they want my father's favour. Are you asking me to believe you're an exception?" she asked in an indecorous tone._

"_No," he admitted. She arched an eyebrow for his honesty. "My father asked me to be friends with you." She didn't say anything; she stared at her book, and he had a feeling that she was silently willing him to leave. "But that's not the reason I like you. Which I do," he added. "You seem nice. And pretty." At that, she raised her head. He turned red. "Well, it's true," he said, aware that he was babbling. "You have nice hair…and…your eyes…"_

"_What about my eyes?" she asked, a wicked smirk on her face._

_She's vain, he thought amusedly. "Why, they are like sapphires of the evening sky," he told her, making a stab at being poetic. This must have been one of his weaker attempts; she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "And oh, what hair, maiden fair? Curly and red, that much to be said!" He tried again. "And what long fingers-"_

"_Oh, stop." Elizabeth laughed freely; a wonderful, musical sound that made her whole face light up. "You are _terrible _at poetry."_

_He bowed. "So, can we be friends?"_

"_I'm still not sure I can trust you," she remarked. But her expression softened. "I'll consider it. What's your name?"_

"_Robert. Robert Dudley." _

"_Robin?" she said, as if she misheard._

"_No, Rob-"_

"_Robin," she finished, presenting him with a slight smile. _

"_You're giving me a nickname? I would say we are most definitely friends, my lady."_

"_I give nicknames freely. My trust, however, is more carefully spent."_

"_May I call you Bess?"_

"_Could you not think of anything more original?" she teased._

"_What about sapphire-eyed, curly red-head?"_

"_Bess it is, then," she conceded. _

* * *

"That was only the beginning," he said to Kathy. "Much, much more had passed since then, but it was the start of our friendship. And believe me, Kathy, when I say that I liked her long before she ever had the hope of becoming Queen." His sister nodded. "I can't tell you all about it right now, but after I got out of the Tower of London – you know about that part – I visited Bess, and found that her situation was much more critical than mine, both considering her finances and safety." His expression darkened. "She still lived in Hatfield, but Queen Mary didn't give her enough money to retain its upkeep; ironic, really, since she's the one who appealed to the late King Henry and Queen Jane Seymour to help Elizabeth with her finances when she was small. So I sold some of my estates give her some money."

"Really?" Kathy asked, her eyes bulging. "How did she react to that?"

"She didn't like it. Said that she didn't accept charity, that I should keep it, that she was doing all right on her own, anything to try and get me to retain the money. It was no use, of course. I loved helping her against her will." His face broke into a grin, but it quickly faded. "The rest is history, little sister. Mary died hated by the people. King Philip didn't bother to come back from Spain. And Bess became Queen Elizabeth in one of the greatest coronations in England—arranged by me, of course," he said, earning a nudge in the ribs from Kathy. "What I gave Bess, she repaid by a tenfold when she got the crown. She told me to think nothing of it. Other people, though… " He trailed off. "Cecil and the courtiers were waiting to pounce on any mistake I made."

"She banished you two years ago," Kathy remembered. "Why?"

"I suppose you remember Amy?" he questioned.

She let out a bitter laugh. "How can I forget?" Amy had been her only companion for years. Kathy had _some _sympathy for her – she knew that Robert never visited them often – but quite frankly, she thought that her sister-in-law was an overgrown spoilt brat who had nothing to do all day but bemoan the fact that she had to live with her husband's much-younger sister. For a time, Kathy wondered what Robert could see in her. Everyone had always said it was a love-match, wasn't it? Only much later did she realize that it had all been arranged, that the true reason Robert married Amy was because she was the heiress of a wealthy man.

But she was her brother's wife.

Shewas the mistress of the house. No matter what, she never let Kathy forget that.

Only when she died and Robert came to reside there instead of court did Kathy discover that she didn't always have to hide herself.

Robert nodded. "Do you remember how she died?"

"She had an ailment in one of her breasts," Kathy replied. "But what really killed her was that she slipped down a flight of stairs. No one was there to help her, because she'd given everyone a day off to enjoy a traveling fair. Even me," Kathy said, remembering she thought it was odd how Amy was allowing her that request. Robert, on his part, always thought there was more to it than an accident, but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

"They blamed me because of it," Robert said bluntly.

"What?" she shrieked. "Are they mad? You were at court, for God's sake! You can't have pushed her down a flight of stairs if you were miles away."

"They believed that I hired someone to do it," he said neutrally. "The front door was unlocked."

"It's always unlocked! It isn't as if we have to worry about thieves there, it's the most boring place in the world, and the ladies liked to take advantage of it."

He shrugged. "The evidence was sparse, but the people believed it anyway. They wanted to believe it. They hated me."

She shook her head in disbelief. "What would you have had to gain if Amy died?"

His mouth dried. They were heading into dangerous territory, and he knew it. Still…although she was almost as mischievous as him, his sister was uncommonly bright and observant, and he was sure she would manage to pick up on it eventually. Better that she heard this from his lips instead of someone who wanted to darken him in her eyes. Besides, she needed to be prepared if she was going to face the court as a relative of the most loathed man in England. "They thought I was trying to clear the way to the Queen's bed."

"Oh" was all she could manage to say. It made sense, now that she thought of it like that. From what she picked up on, Elizabeth and Robert were close, and she guessed a lot of people might have interpreted their friendship if they were of opinion all he wanted was to it for personal gain. But it was ridiculous. Robert couldn't care for Elizabeth that way – she was the Queen, after all – and anyway, he wouldn't kill Amy for it. Her brother might not be perfect, but he wasn't brutal or cruel, either. "I suppose that seeped into her reputation too, and that she couldn't afford to keep you in court anymore?"

He nodded, impressed on how his little sister could come up with that conclusion so quickly. "And I've been stuck in our family home ever since. Not that I haven't enjoyed getting to know you, Kathy," he added quickly, seeing the hurt that flashed through her eyes. "But if court life is anything, it's interesting." He gave a small grin. "And don't let the people who don't like me keep you from making a friend. You're going to need allies at court. I just want you to be careful, all right?"

"I understand," she said, subdued. Then, much more cheerfully, she said, "I can't wait to see it."


End file.
